When the Going Gets Tough...

Well, it's come to this: I've downloaded Karen Carpenter's "Rainy Days and Mondays" (along with all 40 songs from their "Carpenters Gold" re-release) to help me through the long days ahead. That song really does describe my mood right now, as well as my dread of this particular Monday and what it holds for my long-held sense of self-reliance and rugged independence.

Unfortunately, the very next song on the album is "Top of the World" which isn't exactly a fitting follow-up, since it will probably be April or May before I even begin to have that sense again. I was reminded by Kevin that there are some silver linings in this black cloud: this shoulder surgery has come about because I fell doing something I love, rather than during hard manual labor like a lot of people have.

I learned quickly doing construction work during High School that I wasn't cut out for a life of hard manual labor, which certainly spurred me on to study hard in college so I could get in to Med School. Fortunately, that all worked out well, since they let me in and I finished and got through residency and now I'm livin' the life o' Reilly. All of which helps me to feel better about whatever tomorrow brings.

Which brings up another topic: what this blog will bring. I can't really say right now, but I will pledge to try to put something down every day or two to keep everyone apprised of my progress or lack thereof. The first few days will probably be the most interesting, since my veins will be coursing with a cocktail of Vicodin and Ambien. Doc on drugs--now there's something new.

Confession time: no, I've never taken drugs of any kind, except geezer drugs like Prilosec for acid indigestion. Why would I drop acid when I already have more than I need? I do need to confess that I'm not a fan of anesthesia. Don't get me wrong, I've probably done more than 5,000 operations on patients in the last 16 years, and every one of them went to sleep and woke up without incident. It's not the act of going to sleep that bothers me, it's giving up control of my faculties that bothers me.

I'm deathly afraid of running my mouth off and saying a bunch of stupid (or worse) things. If you were being mean you'd say that sort of thing happens to me without the benefit of any consciousness-altering drugs, and you might have a point. Still, I work at the Surgical Center every week, so these folk know me pretty well, and may find any unexpected outbursts especially entertaining.

I don't fear the surgery, since Bones has done a ton of these cases (we've worked at the same Surgical Center for 15 years or so). I'm not enamored with the whole PT/rehab thing, but I've been pretty compliant with bike training programs over the years, so I'm just going to see it as a workout assignment I need to check off every day and hope to see progress over time.

So there it is. Doc has no advice at this point, being that I'm the patient this time around. Don't pity me, I'll be fine. Maybe you should pity Soulmate, since she'll be putting up with me at home a lot more than usual, and probably in a more foul mood than usual (me, not Soulmate). You know you are truly loved when you don't have to try to put your socks on by yourself one-handed.

Talk to you later in the week.